The Rest is Still Unwritten
by Camy99
Summary: Just me, my thoughts, and this paper. Whether you decide to read it or not, is a whole other deal.


**A warning: This isn't like any other story I've ever written. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy it. I've been craving to write for **_**so**_** long, and I'm glad that this is what came out. Being my own worst critic (isn't every writer?), I had to ask my friend if this was publish-able, I think you can figure out her answer.**

**Disclaimer: I own every emotion displayed in here. In your face person trying to sue me, in—your—face. (Although I don't own the song the title came from: **_**Unwritten**_** by Natasha Bedingfield.)**

**

* * *

**

This isn't a diary, or a story, or even a letter. This is just me, my thoughts, and this paper. Whether you decide to read it or not, is a whole other deal. But ignoring it entirely isn't going to make things any better. It's probably not going to make things worse actually because I'm completely over it, but still, I'd like to think we can be mature about this. I'm still not sure exactly what it is I want to say, but I'm going to have to start somewhere to end this. And that's exactly what I plan on doing.

Barely a sentence ago, I lied. I said, and I quote, "…I'm completely over it…" So maybe we need to make a promise before I go on with this. No lies—not from me as I write, and don't lie to yourself as you read (if you decide to). I am not over it. Not over the pains, not over the joys, not over the tears, not over the smiles, and definitely not over you.

Aren't you glad I got that off my chest? Well, to tell you the truth (as I promised I would do—why'd I do that??), I'm not. I want to hate you, I want to hurt you, and I definitely want to be over you. Just like you're over me.

Why was it so easy for you? Or am I completely delusional and you were never into me to start with? Well to hell with that thought. If I'm delusional then so are you because no one treats me the way you did… without loving me. And I hope you know I don't even come close to acting the way I did with you if I didn't feel a certain way. So let's go back to my initial question—why was it so easy for you?

I am aware that it is possible I loved you more than you could have even imagined loving me, it hurts, but I'm aware of it. Nonetheless, in the end, if we took this leap towards the next level _together_, why couldn't we also step back together? If you could so easily take back all the times you made me smile against my will, why couldn't I take back all the time I spent thinking about you? Aren't they one way or another worth the same?

So many freaking questions I swear! It's slightly ridiculous. But don't just read over them. Take a moment to go back and actually try to answer them without stuttering; just like you left me without hesitation.

Thought so.

It's not as easy when you actually have to explain why you deliberately broke someone's heart. And God knows you didn't just break my heart; you single-handedly twisted my life into one I barely recognize.

Thank you.

You read right—I thanked you. I never said these pages were going to be full of hatred. If it weren't for you I wouldn't have known many things. I wouldn't have known exactly how much I hate taking orders, how much I hate the disappointment of not being called back, how much I hate when people aren't straightforward, and how much I could hate you. I also wouldn't have known about all the teensy details we have in common, all the simplest things that humor me, all the things I need to get off my chest, and how much I could love you. Really, a girl needs to know these things.

I could easily leave it here considering that last paragraph basically summed it all up. But you, being you, are probably still staring blankly at this page or barely just starting to somewhat get it. Well don't worry; I've got enough retaliation to push you over the edge. Not literally. Though I almost took it literally once or twice... Whatever, don't even start with me on that when you're solely to blame. (Sorry for being so blunt, but I promised I wouldn't lie.)

I'd like to take a quick moment to mention that I refuse to actually mention your name in this thing. I don't want to give you more credit than you deserve but at the same time I'd like to think it's fairly clear I am talking about you, me, and everything in between. So if this gets into the wrong hands, I hope you enjoy reading about the miserable love life my once-best friend and I have built and then proceeded to destroy. Reminds me of a quote from a song, "_The pain reflected in this song ain't even half of what I'm feeling inside. _(Mariah Carey)" Something along that line could be the summary of this rant.

Talking about quotes, I read somewhere that the average person of my age has a vocabulary of about 60, 000 words. So far I've only used about 800 words but I bet even using all 60, 000, I couldn't quite express how I feel about you. Or how I no longer feel about you for that matter.

It's been a long process this whole "how I feel about you" business. There were the initial hints that pointed towards it, the denial, and finally the indisputably obvious truth that you had moved into the little space called my heart. Y'know, stolen the key, because I sure as heck didn't purposely hand it over. But then there were the interactions that had me swooning, the number of times I mentioned your name in a day, and how even after already having known you for so long I suddenly saw you in an entirely different light. You'd made yourself comfortable in my beating organ, probably even given it a name while you were at it (you know, because when you name something, you grow attached to it). But then you installed a downward rollercoaster in there. It wasn't straight down mind you (hence the _roller coaster_ aspect), it definitely had its ups. And its loops and twists and ups so high my acrophobia (fear of heights) kicked in. But I felt safe because you never let me go—well, until now that is.

And now this is me letting go because as much as you may think you do, you don't have the final say in this. None of this is going to disappear until we are both done with it. And so I declare that by the end of this sentence, I'll be done, moved on; I'll go my way and let you go yours, the only thing that will link us to each other is this written version of our past--as for the rest, I can't quite tell you, because it's still unwritten…

* * *

**I told you it was different. Heck it probably made **_**no**_** sense. But I really needed to write it. Reviews are **_**always**_** welcome. Have yourself some awesome holidays, and hopefully I'll be back posting something else soon. (: xoxCamy**


End file.
